


On A Roll

by Vera



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-15
Updated: 2002-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"The other one is called Delivery Boys," he said.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	On A Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers For: Pilot, Jitters, Craving

There was no answer when he rang the door bell. Maybe it was wrong to just walk in, but Clark knew Lex was home. He could see him on the second floor, blue skeleton in an armchair, watching TV. Lex had said, "Drop by anytime Clark." He'd said, "I'm practicing small town hospitality," though Clark suspected he didn't mean that his jar was always full of cookies. And no-one answered the door. But Lex was home. Alone. And Clark was here. So.

He had no trouble finding his way through the dark corridors. The muffled sound of the television guided him to a door he'd not been through before. He knocked and opened the door.

"Go away."

From the doorway Clark could see the corner of Lex's face and the television screen. On the screen two men are. Naked. Naked and there's another man, younger, bent over a blanket covered bale of hay and. That must be scratchy, Clark thought.

There's a coffee table next to Lex's chair. On it a glass and two DVD cases. On the cover of one a dark-haired man was leaning against a timber fence, his red plaid shirt open, faded jeans stretched across his splayed legs, one booted foot hooked on a fence rail all the better to display his crotch. Its title is 'Roll in the Hay'.

Lex was moving, turning towards him. "I said --"

Clark looked away quickly, looked down to hide his hot cheeks. Looked down. At his plaid shirt, worn jeans, dusty boots. Oh. Startled, he looks straight back at Lex. Amused Lex. Lazy, amused Lex picking up the other DVD case and waving it at Clark. "The other one is called Delivery Boys," he said, drawl painting shivers on Clark's skin.

The men on screen continued to move. Rough gasps and lewd demands. "Take it," someone was saying, "Take that big cock. You like that, boy?"

"Whataya say, Clark? Want me to sign for your package?"

Clark doesn't know where to look. Not at the television because that's. Not at Lex, and the feeling's the same.

"Come here," Lex says, "come here." Shock and desire and he's walking forward and Lex is pulling him down. He's straddling Lex in the chair. His hands restless and unsure on Lex's shoulders, touching and flying up like startled birds, brushing skin and cloth.

"I feel like a girl sitting on your lap," he says.

"You're not a girl," and a hand hard on his crotch, one on the back of his neck and oh, kissing. Not angry, like Tina or milk-flavoured six year old kisses with Chloe in the barn but slippery, hot, lewd and Lex.

He worries that he's too heavy sitting across Lex's thighs so lifts himself up but Lex hands are fists in his shirt, pulling him back down. The table skitters and then the crash of glass and "it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter" and Lex's tongue in his mouth. Hands beneath his tee shirt and sounds. Behind him the sound of strangers, guttural and urgent. Between them Lex begging without words and he thinks, this is sex.

Lex opens his eyes wild like the river bank and wild like the lift on level three. HIs hands are moving down and unzipping. Kisses all over Lex's face, kisses to his wet lips and Clark is devouring and his hips move in a way both unfamiliar and good. Lex is rigid and then shaking against him, like running very fast, like trying to see within, like stars.

He doesn't want to crush Lex, but none of his muscles are working, his bones are water. Lex's head is against his chest, Lex's hands moving softly under his shirt, across his back.

He can see, dim and confused, the reflection of the TV screen in the windows behind Lex. The three men are still at their pornographic business, their voices tinny and low, rhythmic and he focuses . One of the men is moving behind the boy on the hay bale. Is. He had no idea, no idea. His hands are cold.

"Turn it off," he says, wanting more.


End file.
